


Man, Fuck Washington

by Kamaevis (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Kamaevis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't want to move to Washington. You never asked for this shit.</p>
<p>You just wanted to stay in Texas and fight with your brothers and maybe actually try for a relationship with Terezi instead of the weird sort of flirting limbo the two of you have been stuck in for years. </p>
<p>But of course Bro has other plans--when doesn't he?--and here you are, packing up everything and high-tailing it to Washington for reasons that he won't actually explain. </p>
<p>If that wasn't bad enough, you've apparently got a ghost living(?) in the attic and a weird kid across the street who likes to wear his sister's clothes and a murderer that you apparently called back into town totally by accident.</p>
<p>Because why would things ever be simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Bro?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Bro, do you hate me?”  
  
You can't actually see him since your forehead is pressed against the car window as a physical display of your sour mood, but you're pretty sure his brow is pinched and his lips are pursed and his hands are gripping the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white in order to keep from reaching out and smacking you. You don't really care if you're irritating him, though, because you're upset and it's his fault.  
  
“Dave,” He says, voice low, “This is the third time you've asked me that in the past fifteen minutes. The answer hasn't changed.”  
  
You huff, “But see, I think you're probably lying. Because I don't think you would be dragging me to buttfuck nowhere Washington halfway through my high school career unless you hated me.”  
  
“Dirk's not complaining.”  
  
You groan dramatically and turn to look at your twin brother who's slouched in the back seat tinkering with another one of his fucking contraptions. Honestly, you're not sure which noise grates on you more—the hum of Bro's sewing machine or the clinking of Dirk's tools.  
  
God, you hate your brothers.  
  
“Dirk also builds walking robot rabbits and thinks that pony books that he edits with orange Sharpies are actually good birthday presents,” You grumble, “I don't think he's a good control in this experiment.”  
  
Neither of them grace you with a response, so you slump down in your seat and sulk silently.  
  
It really isn't fair. Dirk didn't have friends back in Texas. Dirk could sit in his bedroom and build his stupid robots no matter which state you guys lived in. This move wasn't snuffing out all chances Dirk had for a relationship with a pretty cool chick he'd been carrying a torch for since he was twelve.  
  
Your phone chimes in your pocket, and you fish it out.  
  
Speak of the devil.  
  
\-- gallowsCallibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:12 –-  
GC: D4V3.  
GC: D4V3 HOW 1S YOUR C4R R1D3???  
GC: PL34S3 DON'T T3LL M3 YOU'V3 4LR34DY K1LL3D YOURSELF.  
TG: this is the car ride from hell  
TG: my ipod is dead  
TG: and dirks fucking building shit  
TG: who the fuck builds robots on a fucking car ride  
TG: oh yeah  
TG: my asshole fucking brother  
GC: H4H4H4H4H4  
GC: YOUR BROTH3R 1S TH3 B3ST  
TG: why the fuck would you say that  
TG: where would you even get that idea  
GC: B3C4USE H3 P1SS3S YOU OFF  
GC: 4ND WH3N YOU G3T P1SS3D OFF YOU T4LK MOR3  
GC: 1T'S 4MUS1NG  
GC: >:]  
TG: youre a cruel woman pyrope  
TG: heartless  
TG: can you hear my heart breaking  
TG: because its shattering right now  
TG: like glass  
GC: TH4T'S SOM3TH1NG 1'D L1K3 TO S33  
GC: S3ND M3 4 P1CTUR3 OF TH3 SH4TT3R3D P13C3S OF YOUR H34RT  
GC: SO 1 C4N FR4M3 1T 4ND H4NG 1T ON MY W4LL  
TG: youve got some gnarly tastes terezi  
GC: 1 KNOW  
GC: WH3N 4R3 YOU GO1NG TO G3T TO YOUR N3W HOUS3  
GC: 1 W4NT TO S33 1T  
TG: i dunno lemme ask  
  
“Bro, when the fuck are we going to get there?”  
  
“Dave, I swear to god, you say one more fucking word and I'll fucking gag you.”  
  
TG: he doesnt know  
GC: H3 THR34T3N3D TO G4G YOU R1GHT?  
TG: how the fuck did you know that  
TG: stop using your freaky mind powers  
TG: i thought we both agreed those were bad for you  
GC: >;]  
TG: if youre going to use them would you at least use them for something useful  
TG: like something thats not knowing how my bro decided to threaten me today  
TG: cause thats pretty lame  
GC: 1 DON'T KNOW D4V3  
GC: YOUR BROTH3R S4YS SOM3 PR3TTY  
GC:...  
GC: 1NT3R3ST1NG TH1NGS  
TG: jesus fucking christ  
TG: no  
TG: please god stop there  
GC: YOU'R3 NO FUN  
TG: oh yeah  
TG: what would you do if i started talking about latula like that  
TG: how would that make you feel  
GC: L4TUL4'S HOT  
GC: 1 WOULD UND3RST4ND  
TG: right  
TG: forgot how fucking creepy you are  
GC: H4H4H4  
GC: YOU LOV3 1T  
TG: lies and slander  
GC: SHUT UP  
GC: OH I'V3 GOT TO GO  
GC: K4RKL3S 1S D3M4ND1NG MY FULL 4TT3NT1ON FOR H1S SH1TTY ROMCOM  
TG: roger  
TG: talk to you later  
GC: L4T3R  
GC: >:]  
\-- gallowsCallibrator [GC] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:48 –-  
  
You sigh loudly again because it's really not fair that Karkat and Terezi get to hang out and watch Karkat's shitty movies while you have to spend seemingly endless hours stuck in a car with your asshole brothers. Bro turns a toward you a little and makes an annoyed sound, but you don't really care.  
  
You turn and let your head thud against the window again.  
  
Moving sucks.  
  
–  
  
The house is large.  
  
It's also an actual house and not a tiny, cramped apartment with barely enough room for two people who get along let alone three guys who can barely stand to be in the same room as each other for extended periods of time. It's this ugly sort of greyish brown color with a wide deck and a cheesy, cliché swinging bench. There's a nice curving path through the grass and a large tree growing in the yard.  
  
It's so grossly picturesque that you think it might be pushing the limits of even Bro's ironic tastes.  
  
“Do we really need this much room?” Dirk asks as he climbs out of the car, “I mean, I know apartment was a little small, but this is ridiculous.”  
  
“Bro's overcompensating,” You mutter, and you receive a smack on the head for your troubles.  
  
“Get your shit,” Bro snaps as he walks toward the house, “Moving guys'll be here tomorrow.”  
  
You follow Dirk around to the back of the car and let him open the trunk. Slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder, you leave him to fend with his own bags of mechanical supplies and stroll up the walk and onto the porch. The boards squeak beneath your feet and make a hollow, echoing sound that makes you feel like too much pressure could send you crashing through them.  
  
You dig your heel into the wood, wondering if falling through the porch would be enough to convince Bro that this house definitely isn't safe and you should go back to Texas.  
  
Probably not. You'd probably just end up with a broken leg and then you'd have to be the one who fixed the porch again. Abandoning that—admittedly rather stupid—plan, you walk through the front door that Bro left wide open and into a large foyer.  
  
The floor is wood-paneled and a little more secure sounding than the porch, thank god. You take a few steps inside and look around, shifting your bag so that it sits more comfortably on your shoulder.  
  
There are three doors out of the room—the one to your left opens into a sitting room, the one to your right into a living room (you're not really sure why you need a sitting room and a living room; it's not like you guys do that much sitting) and the one in front of you into into a kitchen. A real kitchen, not that pathetic thing you called a kitchen back in Texas.  
  
To the right of the kitchen door is a staircase leading up to a railed upper landing and a hall that probably has all the bedrooms and shit.  
  
You hear Dirk's heavy footfalls behind you, and you turn to watch him struggle. He's stooped over under the weight of his bags, and you'd laugh at him but that would just result in him dumping his bags on your head. You don't really need the head trauma.  
  
“Bro!” he shouts, “Where's the door to the fucking basement?”  
  
“In the living room!”  
  
Bro's voice is muffled and coming from somewhere upstairs.  
  
“Wait,” You say as Dirk heads toward the living room, “Why do you get the basement?”  
  
Dirk's lip curls in a sneer, “Because you're always bitching about how much noise I make with my 'bots. And I need more room to fit 'em all.”  
  
“Well I need room for my turntables.'  
  
“Too fucking bad.”  
  
He's gone before you get the chance to punch him in his stupid face.  
  
You really need to get rid of your bag, so you climb the stairs and wander down the hallway. Bro's opened a few of the doors to air out the rooms, and he's currently in what you assume is the master bedroom, dumping all his clothes on the floor like a three year-old.  
  
You knock on the door frame and wait for him to notice. It takes him three minutes to finish separating his clothes into piles at the foot of his undressed bed then he looks up when you start tapping your foot impatiently.  
  
“What?” He asks flatly.  
  
“I need a room,” You say.  
  
His upper lip curls up in a sort of sneer, “Just pick one. I don't give a shit.”  
  
You huff irritably and stomp away from his bedroom.  
  
God, he's such a douche.  
  
There are two bedrooms besides Bro's. Two of them would be way too small to fit your turntables in along with your dresser and your desk and the third would be a tight squeeze—even worse than your room back home. Your last hope is the closed door at the end of the hall.  
  
It's ominous and suspicious and you definitely shouldn't go in, but you open it anyway and you're met with a staircase. A dark staircase with steps that look older than Bro—and Bro's practically decrepit—and no handrail.  
  
All signs are telling you to slam the goddamn door closed, suck it up and jam all your shit into one of the actual bedrooms. You don't, of course. You've seen enough horror movies that your sense of self preservation in situations such as this has been pretty much snuffed out.  
  
The stairs groan under your feet all the way up onto a little landing. The stairs make a right turn and it's dark but you're pretty sure there's a door up there.  
  
Well, duh there's a door up there. Why the fuck would there be a staircase to nowhere?  
  
The door leads, quite obviously, to the attic.  
  
The really spacious, high-ceilinged attic with plenty of room for all your shit and then some.  
  
“Fuck yes,” You mutter, dumping your bag beside you. There's a light switch on the wall to your right and you flick it upwards. A light bulb flickers to life, dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room in a really creepy and mysterious way. The room's empty except for a box you can see tucked into the corner.  
A frown curves on your lips and you walk over, tugging the box out of the shadows. It's not small but not particularly large, and it's only sealed with a couple strips of scotch tape. You hook your fingers under them and tug them off easily before prying the box open.  
  
You're...not really sure what's inside.  
  
They're a pair of weird, bronzy, steam-punk tubes that look like they were pried from an organ and twisted into unrecognizable knots of metal, and they're set into hunks of a purplish blue rock. You reach inside and pull one out. It's pretty heavy—duh, it's made of metal and rock, why wouldn't it be heavy—and you can't really see a purpose for it. You think they might be some sort of weird modern art sculpture or some shit like that.  
  
“Hey! Those are mine; hands off!”  
  
There's a snappy retort on your tongue but it doesn't make it much farther than that because that voice definitely did not come from either of your brothers. Your first thought is that there's an intruder, but how would they have gotten in without you noticing?  
  
You turn a little and—yep, that's a ghost.  
  
Because why the fuck not.  
  
She's pretty for a dead chick, with long dark hair and coffee-brown skin. Her clothes are kind of tattered, but you don't really pay much attention because she's floating and you can sort of see through her and her eyes are this weird kind of opaque white color that reminds you of watered down milk. She's scowling at you like you offended her and, dumbfounded, you hold the box out to her.  
  
She scoffs, and she'd probably be rolling her eyes if she had irises or pupils to actually make it visible, “I can't take it. I'm dead. Just put it back in the box and don't touch it again.”  
  
It's stupid, but you've always been bad at taking orders, so you find yourself saying, “Why don't you make me?”  
  
She makes another disgruntled noise and swoops around behind you, her hands melding into yours. Your hands feel cold, right down to the bone, and you find yourself turning back and placing the weird hunk of junk right back in the box. Okay sweet. The ghost girl living (dying? whatever) in your attic can possess you. Good to know.  
  
“Can you do that to entire bodies?” You ask.  
  
She shrugs, “Nah, not without totally wearing myself out.”  
  
“Good,” you nod, “It'd be weird having some dead chick fuckin' around in my body. And my dick.”  
  
She wrinkles her nose and her lips purse. “You're weird. Aren't you freaked out? I'm a ghost.”  
  
You shrug, “I was expecting this. I mean, it's all pretty cliché. The creepy attic, the dangling light, the box hiding in the shadowy corner. A ghost showing up was pretty predictable.”  
  
She floats back around in front of you, crossing her legs beneath the tattered remains of her skirt. Her head tilts a little and she stares at you with her creepy eyes for a while before speaking again.  
  
“Huh. I'm Aradia. I was murdered in this attic.”  
  
“Nice to meetcha. I'm Dave. I wasn't murdered anywhere and I'm hoping that it stays that way.”  
  
She snorts and you're kind of glad she's not offended because that was actually a really shitty thing for you to say. What's the proper etiquette when talking to a ghost? Is there a politically correct term to use for ghost? Dead American or some shit?  
  
Nah, you don't really care.  
  
“Where are you from, Dave?” She asks as you stand.  
  
You head for the door because you need to haul a mattress up here to sleep on tonight. You really hope she can leave the attic and you're not making an ass of yourself again.  
  
“Texas,” You say, walking down the stairs. She's floating along behind you, so she's not attached to the attic. Awesome.  
  
“Oh, cool,” She follows you across the hall and into one of the bedrooms, “I was from New York originally, but we moved out here because my sister Damara was causing trouble.”  
  
You grab the mattress and tug it off the bed, tipping it on its side so you can drag it out of the room and up into the attic, “Trouble, huh? What kind?”  
  
“She paralyzed her ex boyfriend from the neck down for cheating on her.”  
  
“Sounds like a fun gal.”  
  
“Oh, she was.”  
  
You're halfway across the hall again when Bro pokes his head out of his own bedroom.  
  
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” He asks.  
  
“Aradia,” You grunt, heaving the mattress across the floor, “Dead girl from the attic.”  
  
Bro stares for another minute before shrugging and going back to his room. He should probably be more worried about that, but you're totally okay with not having him sign you up to see a counselor.  
  
Aradia is zero help in getting the mattress up. You ask if she could imbue your hands with ghostly super strength and she calls you a loser. Eventually you manage, though, and you shove the mattress to the far end of the room before going back to get the blankets from your duffel bag.  
  
“Are those ponies?” Aradia asks as you spread the blanket on the naked mattress, “They're cute.”  
  
“Bro's idea of a good birthday present. Hey, why couldn't he see you?”  
  
Aradia shrugs, “Some people can see me, some people can't. I'm not an expert on ghosts.”  
  
You can't really argue with that. You barely scraped by in biology, yourself.  
  
You're about to pull your notebooks out and do some writing when the doorbell rings.  
  
“Dave!” Bro calls, “Get the door!”  
  
You make a disgruntled noise, “I'm upstairs, asshole; get it yourself!”  
  
“I'm busy!”  
  
You grown and slump down the stairs. Aradia goes before you, and you're at the railing overlooking the foyer when she jams her head through the door. When she pulls it back in, she swoops over to the bottom of the stairs and waits.  
  
“It's the cute boy from across the street!” She says, grinning, “Oh, you'll love him!”  
  
You make another irritated noise and slink to the door, swinging it open. You're trying to say hello, but what actually comes out of your mouth is,  
  
“Boy?”  
  
Because the kid on your porch doesn't look much like a boy. They've got a shaggy mop of black hair and they're wearing a beagle puss of all fucking things and maybe they're pretty boyish from the neck up but they're definitely not dressed like a boy.  
  
Well, not like any boys you've seen anyway. No dude in his right mind would walk around Texas with an off the shoudler sweater and a skirt and leggings. Nope, dressing like that in Texas would probably get you killed.  
  
The kid doesn't seem particularly perturbed—they're grinning behind the ridiculous mask and holding a cake out toward you.  
  
“That's a really common greeting, but I suppose things might be different where you're from.”  
  
“Uh, no,” You say, “My friend...you know what, never mind. What do you need?”  
  
They look down at the cake in their hand then back up at you, “My dad wanted me to bring this over. Welcome you to the neighborhood.”  
  
The cake does have the word WELCOME printed on it in swooping swirls of frosting which you probably should've been looking at instead of the curve of the kid's shoulder that you really really wanted to put your mouth on. And that's not something you should be thinking because you have literally known the dude for a minute and you're not even sure whether they are a dude.  
  
“People actually do that?” You ask, politely taking the cake from him because you are a southern gentleman, thanks, “Thought that shit was just a cliché in crappy romcoms to get the main characters to meet.”  
  
The kid's smile turns a little sheepish and they laugh a little, “Caught on already, huh? I actually just came here to spy and make sure you aren't creepy child molesters who need to be chased off with pitchforks and torches.”  
  
“No child molesters here, I don't think,” You say, “Uh, I'm Dave.”  
  
“John!” The kid says brightly, “I'm – oh my god, is that a robot rabbit?”  
  
John shoves right past you and into the house like he wasn't totally intruding. You turn and, indeed, Lil' Seb had wandered fortuitously into the foyer. John crouches down next to him, cooing and gushing and asking 'wow dave did you make this?' and 'oh god does it talk?'.  
  
“Isn't he cute?” Aradia asks, “His dad used to send him over to clean when no one was living here.”  
  
“And you watched him? You're creepy.”  
  
John lifts his head, brow furrowing, “Creepy?”  
  
“Not you,” You assure him, “My...imaginary friend.”  
  
His lips purse and you can practically see him growing uncomfortable. The new guy across the street might not be molesting children but he's a total loon. Great first impression, Dave.  
  
He stands, mouth opening, and you can read people well enough to know he's about to make an excuse to leave, but then Dirk's standing in the doorway to the living room.  
  
“Oh hey, you found Lil' Seb,” He says, “I was wonderin' where he wandered off to.”  
  
John squeaks in surprise, “His name's Lil' Seb?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dirk says, dropping into a crouch and crooking his finger. Seb wanders over obediently, “My friend Jane named 'im. He actually belongs to her but she sent him back for a routine checkup.”  
  
“Whoa, did you make him?” John's practically bouncing, “That's so cool.”  
  
“Yeah. Robots are my thing. I've got s'more in the basement. Wanna see?”  
  
John agrees way too fast and then they're gone and you totally want to punch Dirk in the face because Seb did not wander in accidentally. You think you might have to reevaluate your conclusion that there were no child molesters in the house because Dirk was a Grade A creep.  
  
“Aw,” Aradia croons, “Swept right out from under you.”  
  
You scoff, walking the cake into the kitchen to put it on the counter, “No way, dude. Kid was wearing a fucking beagle puss. Not worth my time.”  
  
Aradia still snickers, “I saw the way you were eying his shoulder. Either you're a vampire or you've got a crush on cute little John.”  
  
“You should see the way I sparkle in the sunlight.”  
  
John seems to be staying in the basement, so you shut the front door and head back up to your attic. Terezi's probably asleep by now, but you pester her anyway so she can have the honor of waking to your glorious red text.  
  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gallowsCallibrator [GC] at 20:11 –-  
TG: fuck washington  
TG: theres a ghost in my attic  
TG: and dirks got the hots for this dude who dresses like a girl  
TG: also this house is way too big for three of us  
TG: but i mean at least im as far away from dirk as physically possible  
TG: dont need to hear him creeping on kids in his creepy basement  
TG: message me when you get up  
TG: ps kick karkat in the knee for me  
TG: for shits and giggles  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gallowsCallibrator [GC] at 20:13 –-  
  
Washington, you decide, is weird as fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received some very helpful criticism on this chapter, so I went back and did some editing in hopes that I could improve. I hope I did well enough. uvu

You think it would be easier to wrap your head around John—(metaphorically, Aradia, jesus christ)—if he was...consistent.

You're not stupid. You know about crossdressers and gender dysphoria, and hell, if John wants to be a girl, who are you to stop him? It's not like you have a problem with his lifestyle...he just _confuses_ you.

The second time he came over made you think that the whole girls' clothes thing was just a prank—a costume along like his beagle puss—because he walked in wearing a ratty old sweatshirt and baggy jeans and dirty Converse. He looked like a _dude._ And he was totally nonchalant about it, just strolled on in, said hi to you and Bro and disappeared down the stairs to hang out with Dirk. 

And _then_ he shows up in a pair of jeans tight enough that they have to be cutting off his circulation and a ruffly purple tank top with his hair pushed away from his face with a headband and you're confused all over again.

You figure it's just a thing, y'know, a quirk. It doesn't really matter what he wears, anyway, right? It's not like wearing girls' clothes changes his personality.

It's a few weeks after you moved in, after a few weeks of John bouncing into the house and disappearing into the basement with a little waggle of his fingers in your direction, that your perspective changes _again._

You're draped across the couch watching some television show that you don't actually care about when Lil' Seb comes waddling up to you. 

Aradia, who's floating above you, squeals delightedly and drops down in front of him even though he can't see her. You expect him to do something, to leave you a message or give you some weird gift that Dirk threw together, but he just kind of stands there. 

Then he starts shaking. And it's not the usual little vibration of his circuitry, but tremors hard enough to make him rattle. You can see his glasses quivering, and the makes a weird, mechanical noise that you've never heard him make before.

And he just stands there and shakes.

“Uh,” You look over at the closed door to the basement, “Shit.”

“What's wrong with him?” Aradia asks, curving around behind him with her hands hovering just above his ridiculous ears, “Is he broken?”

You shoot her a look, “Why the fuck would I know? He's Dirk's toy, not mine.”

“He's not a _toy,_ Dave.”

“Whatever. Guess I should probably let Dirk know.”

You stand off the couch and crouch down, hesitant to touch him in case he's going to electrocute you and damn you to an eternity trapped in this house with Aradia. But when you grab him by his chest...tube, he just shudders under your hands and yeah that's really creepy.

You lift him and he goes without protest; usually he squeaks and thrashes if anyone but Dirk picks him up, so something must really be wrong.

You carry him to the door and tuck him under your arm to open it. You're halfway down the stairs when you call, 

“Yo, Dirk, your bunny's freakin'-”

You halt midstep and nearly go tumbling down the last few steps. Where you're standing, you get a very clear look at the bed, where Dirk's got John on his back gasping and arching. He's wearing a tiny pair of baby blue panties and his spread legs are tucked into blue nylon thigh-highs. They're angled so you can't see any of Dirk's bare skin—the guy's not even undressed, what the fuck—but John's all there for you to see, flushed and shiny with sweat. He's making these desperate noises and his lower lip is clenched tight between his teeth and fuck you need to get out of here right fucking now.

You drop Seb, not caring about harming him because the little shit's practically indestructible. You clap a hand over your mouth so you don't make some mortified sound and bolt back up the stairs, ignoring the way John's voice is pitching upwards. You slam the door and Aradia's laughing her goddamned ass off and you bolt for the bathroom to be sick.

You think about every time John had come over all dolled up and vanished into the basement, about all those times he had probably been _fucking your brother._

_Gross._

That night at dinner, Dirk says, “Sorry, Dave. John's a bit of an exhibitionist,” and Bro looks between the two of you and laughs and god your brothers are fucking assholes. 

At least you know now, though; the crossdressing is a kink. Whatever. No big deal. You're perfectly aware that your brothers are into some pretty weird shit, so if Dirk can find someone just as freaky as he is, well, good for him. You just wish you hadn't had front row tickets to the show.

You have it figured out, you're _sure_ you do. 

Of course, you're wrong. When have you been right so far?

It's a few days after you caught them and about a week before school starts and Dirk goes into town for supplies on some big project he's working on. You expect to spend the day with Aradia watching bad movies, but John comes over and he doesn't seem particularly put off by Dirk's absence.

He's all cozied up in a large sweater and leggings and flats and you swear he's wearing makeup and he just walks right in and asks if you want to hang out. You're a little dumbfounded, but you agree and the two of you end up sprawled on the floor in the living room with a bowl of popcorn between you watching The Fox and the Hound. John's sniffling with his face hidden behind the collar of his sweater, and you're definitely not thinking about how he looked on Dirk's bed, all open and flushed red with little whines snaking out of his parted lips, the way his spine had curved as he arched-

No, you're definitely not thinking about that because there are _boundaries._ You and Dirk don't always get along, but you're a decent enough guy to know that if Dirk's got a thing going on with John, your hands are _off._

That doesn't stop you from running your stupid mouth, though.

“So. Is this a kink or something?”

Aradia snorts from where she's floating above your head and you smother the urge to shoot her a dirty look.

John looks up at you, eyes bright with unshed tears and brow furrowed in confusion, “Uh...Disney?”

“No,” You gesture at him lazily, “The whole girls' clothes thing.”

He sits up and looks down at himself like he didn't even realize what he was wearing, “Why would it be a kink?”

“I dunno, man. Seemed pretty into it when you were fuckin' Dirk.”

His cheeks flush and his eyes widen and his mouth kind of gapes for a minute. It's actually kind of hilarious and you wish you had your camera on you.

“So-so _what?”_ He splutters, “What, you thought that I came here to-to fuck _you?_ Thought that I knew that Dirk was out, figured I'd come over and fuck his brother? Did you think I was gonna fuck Bro, too?”

Okay, not funny anymore, “Dude, what? I never said that-”

“You think that just because I wear girls' clothes I'm _easy,_ is that it?”

 _“No,_ I-”

_“Fuck off, Dave.”_

Suddenly there's a bowl of popcorn on your head and John's tugging his shoes on and stomping out the door. You shove the bowl back onto the floor and shout for him to wait but you don't think he's listening. You scramble to your feet to chase after him because, shit, you're such a fucking _asshole._

It doesn't help that Aradia just grins at you like she knows something you don't and vanishes off to god knows where.

You're out the door only a few seconds after he slams it, and you hope he's not to far away. You're so focused on catching him that you nearly bowl him over when you go charging out because he's just standing on your porch. Laughing.

The little fucker is _laughing_ at you.

He's nearly doubled over with his arms wrapped around his stomach, the laughter wheezing out of him and you're really tempted to shove him over the railing. You run a hand over your face, pushing your sunglasses up just a bit to rub at your eyes.

“You little shit,” You grumble, making him laugh harder.

When he's finally done laughing, your cheeks are practically on fire. 

“You're cute when you're embarrassed,” He coughs, lip still stretched into a wide grin, “God, you should've seen your face.”

You huff, “I felt bad. I thought I'd legitimately pissed you off.”

“You should feel bad! That was a really dickish thing to say,” He slugs you on the arm, “You're lucky I'm so fucking cool or I really would've been offended.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

He snorts at you, “You're such a loser. Anyway, dude, I actually do have to go. My sister's taking me shopping for school clothes. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Alright. See ya.”

He bounces down the steps, waggling his fingers at you as he goes. You're still not sure about the whole girl's clothes thing, but you're now completely aware that John Egbert is a little douche and next time he comes over you're going to shove a smuppet ass in his face.

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you turn on your heel and walk back inside. Aradia's waiting for you, perched up on the railing on the second floor, and she's giggling at you, too. You're really sick of people laughing at you. No one laughed at you back in Texas. 

(well except Terezi, but she laughed because you were funny not _at your expense)_

“You're not very good at this,” Aradia says helpfully, following you as you go to shut off the television, “Honestly, how do you expect to woo him by _insulting_ him?”

“I am _not_ wooing him,” You state firmly, “First of all, the dude's a freak. Second, he's got a thing with Dirk, and I've got no fuckin' intention of intrudin' on his territory.”

Aradia scoffs and flops backwards dramatically even though she's floating and there's nothing for her to actually flop on to, “John's not his property, Dave. God, you're such a _boy.”_

“Oh c'mon, you knew that already. don't pretend like you didn't know that I saw you spying on me in the shower.”

She arches a brow, “Yeah, but I still wasn't quite sure, y'know?”

You'd punch her if she was a corporeal being. As it is, the best you can do is scowl and feel your face flush and stomp towards your room. You slam your door, mostly for effect because it's not like walls and doors mean much to Aradia. Sometimes it really sucks to have a ghost as your best friend. 

You climb the stairs and shuffle into your bedroom. You have a carpet laid in the center of the room, your turntables tucked into one of the alcoves in the wall and your bed is pressed up to the far wall. You cross the room and flop onto your bed, and Aradia floats in through the floor, hovering by the window across from the turntables. 

“Oh!” She says, turning toward you with a smile, “When do you start school?”

–

Back in Texas, you had to wake up two hours before school started just so you wouldn't be late and then catch two buses across town—smelly, public buses with Dirk and his tinkering as your only companion. Here, the school was a ten minute walk away if you dragged your feet. You wake pretty late and nearly panic at the time before remembering that you don't actually have to rush.

Aradia chatters while you get ready—you're pretty much used to changing with her in the room, now, because she's seen you naked so there's not really much else she could see—but you're not really paying attention. You want to, you really do, but you're freaking out about school a little more than you care to let on. 

School was alright back in Texas. You had 'Rezi and Karkat and a few other people that you could tolerate, and no one really gave you any shit because you had a reputation of kicking ass when you needed to. In the city, there were plenty of kids weirder than you, so your too-tight jeans and the sunglasses and headphones that were constantly attached to your person didn't really stand out all that much. You didn't know if it' be like that in such a small town. John's obviously comfortable enough with the people in this town to go trouncing around in skirts, but he'd also lived here longer than you—his entire life, he'd said.

They were used to him. You? You were just a stranger.

_“Dave.”_

Startled, you look up at Aradia, who's about an inch from your face, staring at you with her creepy white eyes. 

“Wh-what?” You ask.

“You've been staring at your shoe for ten minutes,” She says with a sigh, “C'mon, Davey, you'll be fine! We hit it off well enough, didn't we?”

You roll your eyes, “You're a ghost Aradia. I don't think that getting along with you means I'm going to get along with, like, normal people.”

“Well, you have John, don't you?”

You snort, “Yeah, John who spends all his time mooning over Dirk.”

“No he doesn't, Dave. I'm pretty sure he spends just as much time with you as he does with Dirk.”

“That's such a fuckin' lie and you know it.”

You finally get your shoe tied just as she twists so she's floating upside down in front of you, eye-to-eye.

She's got that shit-eating grin on her face that you've grown to loathe.

“You only _think_ he spends so much time with Dirk,” She says, and her finger jabs at your nose and phases through the tip, “Because you're _jealous.”_

You scowl, waving your hand dismissively. Your nose tingles where she touched it.

“I am _not_ jealous,” You say firmly, and though she doesn't argue, she's still grinning when she vanishes through the wall so you know she definitely doesn't believe you. You ignore her, though, and you also choose to bypass breakfast. Dirk's still in his shower—because fuck that asshole takes way too long in the shower—so you leave alone, slinging your bag over your sholder on your way out.

You're about halfway down the road when John shouts your name.

You turn and see him jogging toward you, grin blown wide on his face. He's wearing a pair of shorts that are way too short to be men's and a bright red off-the-shoulder tee-shirt. You don't care that red's your favorite color or that he looks really, really good in it. Nope. You don't care _at all._

“Hey,” You say as he stops in front of you, breathing a little heavily.

“Hey! No Dirk?”

You snort, “You kiddin'? Dirk takes the longest showers out of anyone I've ever known. He'll show up eventually.”

“Mm,” John hums, bouncing ahead, “So you wanted to get there early or something?”

You shrug, “Didn't have anything better to do. Back in Texas the school was all the way across town and I had to hop buses to get there. Not used to bein' able to walk.”

John turns, eyebrows raised, and leans toward you, “You're nervous, aren't you?”

Your breath hitches a little and you glower, “What? No fuckin' way!”

“Dude, you're _totally_ nervous,” John laughs, spinning around on his heel again and falling into step beside you, “No worries, man, I'll protect you from the big bad bullies.”

It's your turn to laugh, _“You'll_ protect me? Mr. Piano Playing and Computer Programming?”

“Okay, maybe not _physically._ But I'll have you know that I can prank like a master.”

“Yeah, I can just see the bullies running scared when you throw a cheap pie in their face and leap out of closets in your beagle puss.”

John's face twists into a sneer and you pinch his nose for good measure. 

“Besides,” You say, “What makes you think I'm goin' to have trouble with bullies?”

One of John's eyebrows creeps up as he glances your way. He looks like you've just said something completely stupid that you should know is wrong, but honestly, are you that weird? Sure, you wear your sunglasses all the time, but that's because being the kid who wears sunglasses all the time is better than being the one with creepy red eyes. 

He steps in front of you and stops, grabbing ahold of your upper arms and staring straight into your eyes very seriously.

“Dave,” He says, “You spent all summer talking to the imaginary ghost in your attic.”

You lift a hand and press your index finger to his forehead, shoving him away, “Dude, Aradia's totally fuckin' real. Why would I pretend that there's an annoying teenage girl in my house who never leaves me the fuck alone?”

“Because you're crazy.”

“Fuck you, Egbert.”

It's a miracle that you and John make it to the school without you shoving him into traffic. The kid's a little shithead, but you can't seem to shake him. It's like every time he comes to hang out again, you conveniently forget how much of an asshole he is. 

You've already had a tour of the school, and you know where all your classes are well enough, so when John grabs your wrist and drags you off to introduce you to his friends, you don't have a legitimate reason to protest. He's already briefing you on them as he walks you to the cafeteria. 

Jade Harley, Jake English, and Rose and Roxy Lalonde. They sound interesting, to say the least, and you think that Terezi and Karkat might be normal in comparison.

Once inside the cafeteria, the group wasn't hard to spot, loud and boisterous in the corner, the dark haired girl with the circular glasses—that's Jade, you're pretty sure—standing from her seat to wave at you and John.

John pulls more insistently and waves back at Jade, not releasing you until you're standing by the table.

“Hey guys!” John says brightly, “This is Dave! He moved into the house across the street from me this summer.”

You're greeted with a chorus of 'nice to meet you's by all of them except for the girl who's either Roxy or Rose. She leans forward with wide eyes, staring at you like you like you're crazy. 

“You moved into the _Megido_ house?” She asks, voice pitching low like it's some big secret.

Her sister elbows her, “Roxy, stop that.”

“What?” You ask, “Is it a thing or somethin'?”

Roxy squeals suddenly, “Oh my god, you have a southern accent! That's so cute.”

“Yeah, sweet, Texan accents. What's up with the house?”

John shoves you, “Don't be rude, asshole.”

“No, he's right,” Rose says, “Roxy, you brought it up, you explain yourself.”

Roxy heaves a put upon sigh and pats the seat next to her. You sit and she props her elbows on the table before she starts talking,

“Okay, so it's not really a _thing._ Like, it's not some weird haunted house that everyone in town avoids—it's in the middle of the suburbs, right? Not that creepy. But—oh, what was it, ten years ago? Eleven? I don't know, a while ago there was this serial killer, total psycho, and he went up there and tried to kill this girl. But she fought him off and they both fell down the stairs and died. Pretty crazy. Rose _thinks_ it's haunted, but only a few people have actually reported it, so it's kind of whatever.”

Awesome. So Aradia wasn't just being dramatic when she said she was murdered. She hadn't mentioned she'd taken someone down with her, though; shit, was there a serial killer's ghost in your attic, too? God, that would fucking suck. 

“The killer's not there, Dave. At least, he hasn't been around as far as I've seen.”

You nearly jump out of your skin when Aradia pokes her head through the table. 

“You alright?” Jake asks, brow furrowed.

“Fine,” You say, standing sharply, “Gonna run to the bathroom. See you guys later. Maybe.”

You flee from the cafeteria as fast as you can manage without sprinting. John calls after you and you probably made those guys feel like they'd pissed you off or something, and you'd care more about that but right now you have a ghost to deal with. A ghost who should definitely not be at school with you.

The bathroom is blessedly empty and you stand against the door since you have no way of locking it. 

“Aradia,” You say. 

Nothing happens.

“God dammit, Aradia, I know you're there.”

She materializes in front of you, arms crossed and lower lip poking out. 

“What the fuck?” You demand, “You can't just show up while I'm around a bunch of people who can't see you!”

“I didn't have a choice!” She snaps back, “I mean, okay, I could've stayed invisible but that's so _boring.”_

You drag your fingers through your hair, “Why are you even here? Go home and-and watch Bro change or whatever the fuck you do.”

“I _can't.”_

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not attached to the house anymore!” She huffs, knees tucking up toward her chest as she frowns, “Before you came along, I was in the house all the time but now I'm attached to you and I _can't leave.”_

You blanch, “Wait. You- so you're goin' to follow me _everywhere?”_

She bristles like you'd insulted her, “It's not like I want to! One of the few perks of being dead is that I don't have to go to school!”

“Everyone's goin' to think I'm crazy!”

“You're talking to a dead girl; you are crazy!”

“Then stop fuckin' talkin' to me!”

_“Fine!”_

She plunges through the floor and disappears from sight. 

Great. Nice fucking job, Dave, piss off the girl who's apparently attached to you. She's going to be hell to live with—or not live with whatever jesus having a dead best friend is complicated—for the next few weeks. 

You rub a hand over your mouth and nose, frustrated. 

When you open the door to the bathroom, John's standing on the other side, arms crossed and hips cocked. 

“You were talking to yourself again,” He says with a frown.

“We've discussed this,” You reply, “Not to myself. To Aradia.”

“I thought she haunted your house.”

“Well apparently she haunts me, now.”

He rolls his eyes, “See? This is why people are going to bully you. You're a freak.”

“Says the boy in girls' clothing.”

He punches you in the arm with a scowl that's nowhere near angry enough for him to have actually taken your insult seriously. You start to wonder when your insults _stopped_ being serious. 

John's moving to walk toward the cafeteria again—you really need to apologize for storming off like that, talk about a dick move—and you're about to follow when your stomach plunges inexplicably and the hair on your nape stands on end. You turn around and see a kid leaning against the lockers a few yards away.

He's got a scraggly mop of black hair and white paint smeared across his face like a...like a clown. Ah, fuck, a juggalo? You thought you left all those fucking crazies back in Texas.

But there's something off about him, something that stirs a tremor in your fingers and sends a chill down your spine. His lips stretch into a lazy smile, and you swear his eyes are _glowing_ behind the curtain of his hair. He tilts his head, sharp and fast, hard enough that you can almost hear the snap of bone. Your stomach lurches and you take a step back.

John calls your name from down the hall and you're all too happy to abscond the fuck out of there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did some heavy editing on Chapter 2, and I would really, _really_ appreciate it if you would go back and reread that chapter so that my revisions don't go to waste. uvu

\-- gallowsCallibrator [GC] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 18:32 --   
GC: H3Y D4V3   
GC: D4V3 YOU ST4RT3D SCHOOL TOD4Y R1GHT?   
TG: terezi i started school three days ago   
GC: CLOS3 3NOUGH   
GC: D1D YOU M4K3 4NY FR13NDS? >:]   
TG: just that weird john kid i told you about   
TG: and he introduced me to a couple of his friends   
TG: im not sure theyre all totally cool with me   
GC: WHY D1D YOU DO SOM3TH1NG TO TH3M >:?   
TG: nah i mean   
TG: you know that aradia chick   
GC: YOU M34N YOUR GHOST?   
TG: yeah her   
TG: she followed me to school   
TG: and i might have freaked out and snapped and stormed off to talk to her   
TG: and johns friends might have thought that i was angry with them   
GC: H4H4H4H4H4H4H4H4   
GC: D4V3 YOUR3 SO STUP1D   
GC: WHY D1D YOU BR1NG YOUR 1M4G1N4RY GHOST FR13ND TO SCHOOL   
TG: first of all fuck off pyrope   
TG: second shes not imaginary why the fuck would i imagine someone as annoying as her   
TG: and third i didnt bring her she tagged along without permission   
GC: SH3 DO3SNT N33D YOUR P3RM1SS1ON TO GO PL4C3S   
GC: YOU DONT OWN H3R YOU S3X1ST P1G   
TG: once again   
TG: fuck off pyrope   
GC: H4H4H4H4H4H4   
GC: 1S SH3 TH3R3 NOW   
GC: C4N 1 T4LK TO H3R SO W3 C4N SH4R3 D1RTY S3CR3TS 4BOUT YOU?   
GC: >;]   
TG: nah shes not talking to me right now   
TG: we got in a fight   
GC: YOUR 1M4G1N4RY FR13ND 1S G1V1NG YOU TH3 S1L3NT TR34TM3NT   
TG: god terezi shes not imaginary   
TG: youre a weirdo psychic i dont see why you find it so hard to believe theres a goddamn ghost in my house   
GC: 1 B3L13V3 YOU D4V3   
GC: 1TS JUST FUN TO W4TCH YOU SQU1RM >:]   
TG: youre an awful person   
TG: im going to block you   
GC: NO YOUR3 NOT 1   
TG: you what   
GC: DAVE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE WHY HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING ME?   
TG: wait what   
GC: DON'T YOU FUCKING PLAY DUMB WITH ME YOU INSUFFERABLE DULL WITTED FREAK OF NATURE.   
TG: oh karkat is that you   
GC: WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT IS YOU FUCKING IDIOT?   
TG: oh i dont know   
TG: maybe terezi   
TG: since i was talking to terezi like five seconds ago   
GC: WHAT THE FUCK EVER.   
GC: I WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU'VE BEEN IGNORING ME FOR THE PAST WEEK YOU DICK SWALLOWING CUM GUZZLER.   
TG: ah come on man are the insults necessary   
TG: ive been busy alright   
TG: i cant answer every time youre having lady trouble   
GC: K4RK4T YOUV3 B33N 4SKI1NG H1M FOR G1RL 4DV1C3?   
GC: >:]   
GC: > :]   
GC: >:]   
GC: > :]   
GC: I ONLY ASKED HIM FOR GIRL ADVICE ONE FUCKING TIME FUCK YOU.   
GC: TH4TS SO 4DOR4BL3   
GC: FUCK OFF I'M NOT ADORABLE.   
GC: Y3S YOU 4R3   
GC: FUCK STOP PINCHING MY CHEEKS.   
GC: NO TH3YR3 SO SOFT 4ND CUT3   
GC: GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME.   
TG: are you guys serious right now   
TG: please dont tell me youre sitting at the same goddamn computer   
GC: WHY WOULD THAT BE A PROBLEM FOR YOU, YOU SACK OF SHIT?   
TG: you guys make me want to vomit   
TG: do you hear that   
TG: thats the sound of me projectile vomiting   
GC: YOUR3 GROSS D4V3 >:[   
GC: SERIOUSLY, THAT'S SO FUCKING DISGUSTING. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, STRIDER?   
TG: whatever guys   
TG: i have homework to do   
TG: you two work out your lovers spat   
GC: FUCK OFF YOU SHIT CHUTE.   
GC: K4RK4T STOP B31NG RUD3   
TG: later dudes   
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gallowsCallibrator [GC] at 18:57 --

You make a frustrated noise and just barely stamp down the urge to fling your phone across the room. Yeah, you'd been ignoring Karkat, and maybe that was unfair. _Really_ unfair, actually. It's not like you and Terezi were anything more than friends who flirted more than normal—and, honestly, the same could be said for for Terezi and Karkat, too—but that doesn't mean that you want to give Karkat advice onto how to ask her out.

You groan, rolling over onto your stomach and burying your face into your pillow. They didn't need to rub in how close they are, either. It's not like you don't already know that they're living down the street from each other and hanging out after school while you're 2,000 miles away and sitting alone in your bedroom on a Friday afternoon. What kind of idiots sit at the same computer and argue over a chat?

Oh yeah! Your best friends.

Living in Washington sucks.

A knocking on your window startles you from your moping, and you shove yourself up onto your elbows, completely confused. You sleep in the _attic;_ who the fuck is at your window?

You crawl out of bed and shuffle toward the window, stooping over to see who it was. And really, you shouldn't be surprised when it's John's face peeking back at you with his big goofy grin and a wave of his hand.

You roll your eyes, unlatching the window and sliding it up.

“The fuck are you doing, Egbert?” You ask, and he just crawls right inside without asking.

“Visiting you, obviously,” he says, “Dirk's busy building some robot, doesn't wanna be disturbed.”

You roll your eyes, “I'm not here to fill the void in your heart when your boyfriend ignores you.”  
He shoots you a flat look, eyes half-lidded and unimpressed as he walks over to your bed. He flops down on top of it, lounging like he owns the place.

“Dirk's not my _boyfriend,_ Dave.”

“Whatever.”

John's nose crinkles and he sticks his tongue out. You wander over to stand at the foot of the bed with your arms crossed because there's no way you're going to get on the bed with him. Your thoughts have a way of betraying you when John's involved.

Your heart nearly stops when he finds your phone.

“Pesterchum, huh? Who's Terezi?”

You lunge forward, grabbing for the phone, “Give that back, you little shit.”

“No way! Not till I add my chumhandle,” He snorts, “Turntech _god_ head? You think you're that good?”

“Fuck off.”

You snatch the phone back, frowning at the new chum on your list.

“You're one to talk,” You sneer, “Ectobiologist? What are you, twelve?”

His lip curls, but before he can snap a witty retort, you realize something,

“Wait. _Ecto_ biologist? Like, ghost biology? Your fucking chumhandle is about ghost biology and you won't believe me about Aradia?”

John groans, “Her again? Jesus, Dave, I like Ghostbusters and horror movies. I don't actually _believe_ in ghosts.”

“I'm a little offended.”

Aradia floats up through the floor, and it's the first time you've seen her since your fight. Her arms are crossed, her cheeks puffed out and her lips pursed. She looks like a petulant child and you can't help the laugh that barks from your throat. John gives you a weird look and you shrug, nodding toward Aradia,

“You offended her.”

He makes a disgruntled noise and flops backwards so he's sprawled on the bed, “You're so fucking _weird.”_

“Dave, Dave,” Aradia appears in front of you, “So while I was giving you the silent treatment, I did some thinking. You didn't see me until you touched my music boxes. Make John do it.”

“That's creepy.”

John's head lifts, _“What's_ creepy?”

“Dave, just do it,” Aradia whines, “C'mon, I need more friends than you.”

“He's not going to agree.”

Then suddenly it's not Aradia in front of you but John. He's scowling up at you with his hands curled into fists at his sides,

“Stop talking to your imaginary friend while I'm _right here.”_

You grin, “Needy little bitch, aren't you?”

He slugs you in the arm and you laugh while heading toward the corner where you'd tucked the music goes away, “Yo, John. Come over here a minute.”

“Why do you want me in the creepy dark corner of your bedroom?”

“Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here.”

John groans but sidles over anyway. You slide the box out and pry it open again. The music boxes are still just as weird and freaky as they were when you first found them and you hoist one out.

“Here,” You say, and he raises an eyebrow, “Take it.”

“Why?”

“Would you just trust me?”

Like a child off to do a chore he really doesn't want to, he reaches out with slumped shoulders and takes the thing from you.

“Okay, I'm holding it, now wha- _holy fucking shit.”_

Aradia's floating above your head and if John's face is any indicator, she was right about her theory.

“John,” You say, “Meet Aradia.”

–

After an hour of some pretty intense denial on John's part that involves a lot of shouting and John burrowing into your sheets and plugging his ears, you finally manage to convince him that Aradia isn't a figment of his imagination, and she wasn't evil even if she was annoying as hell sometimes. You coax him out of the blankets and he sits cross-legged at the head of your bed with his arms crossed and a frown on his lips.

“Okay,” He says, “So Aradia's real. And dead. You're not as crazy as you could be.”

Seated on the bed across from him, you roll your eyes, “Thank you for that astute summary, Mr. Egbert.”

“Shut up, I'm having an existential crisis over here.”

Aradia pouts, “I'm not that creepy, am I?”

John scowls, “You are.”

Aradia looks affronted, her eyes wide as circles and her cheeks puffed out. She plunges down through the bed and vanishes. You shoot John a _look,_ and you're going to make him apologize for that. If you can apologize for accidentally offending his friends, he can apologize for being flat out rude to yours.

John just frowns and hunches his shoulders.

“You expecting someone else?” He asks.

Your brow furrows and you glance from side-to-side, “Uh, what?”

“There's someone crawling in your window.”

You whirl around faster than you probably should and end up falling off the bed, pain flaring in your shoulder. Your window is empty, though, standing open exactly how you left it when you let John in. You sit up, rubbing at your shoulder and glowering in John's general direction,

“Another one of your stupid pranks?”

But John looks white as a sheet, and he's staring at the open window, petrified. His mouth falls open, a pathetic little noise finding its way from his throat like he was trying to speak but couldn't, and then it snaps shut again just as quickly. And, yeah, John may be a pranking master—his words, not yours—but he's not that great of an actor.

After a moment of silence, his eyes move to you, and he looks like he's about to be sick, “There was someone there,” He says insistently, “There was a dude crawling into your window I swear.”

“Alright, alright.”

You stand, rubbing at your sore shoulder and walking toward the window. It's not like you have to keep it open; John can leave the house through the front door like a normal person. When you go to close it, though, you notice a dark smear of purple on the sill. Against your better judgement, you reach down and prod at it with your index finger. It's cold and almost electrified, sending shivers up your spine. You draw your hand back sharply and close the window before wiping the gunk off your finger.

“Okay,” You say, turning back to John, “That's weird. What did the dude look like? I should tell Bro.”

John looks marginally less terrified, and he swallows thickly before answering you, “He, uh...he had a lot of hair. It was black and-and kind of shaggy like he just let it grow. And I think he was wearing c- _clown_ makeup?”

You don't miss the way he splutters over the word clown, and you store that little piece of information in your memory banks for fodder in later arguments you two are bound to have. At the moment, though, you can't tease him because your mind's running a mile a minute.

“Wait,” You say, “Like, legit clown makeup? Going to a children's party clown make up or creepy juggalo clown makeup.”

John nods hurriedly before realizing that your question wasn't yes or no, “Uh, juggalo. Definitely juggalo.”

“Okay, that's fucking creepy.”

Your mind takes you back a few days prior, the first day of school and the creepy dude who'd been watching you in the hallway. Now he was crawling through your window? Great. Just fucking _fantastic._

John looks scared enough that you don't really want to bring up the fact that you might've seen the juggalo dude before. He's hunched in on himself, face completely white and arms crossed defensively across his middle. There's no fight in him, and you're fairly certain that he wouldn't be up for more bickering.

“Uh,” You gesture toward the door, “Why don't we go downstairs? I think Bro's making dinner.”

And maybe you're just as freaked out as John, and as much of an asshole as he can be, there aren't a lot of people who can make you feel safer than Bro does.

John nods quickly and climbs off the bed, practically tripping over himself to get out the door before you. You cast one last glance at your window and make a mental note to clean up the weird goop on the sill before you go to bed.

Aradia joins you at the landing between your room and the hallway, and she's frowning again but not in the sulky way she'd been doing before. She looks...troubled. You raise a brow at her while you walk down the rest of the stairs, but she just shakes her head. You shrug, not in any place to push her when she's just started acknowledging your existence again, and follow down the hall and into the foyer.

“Dirk!” John bounces down the stairs and nearly lunges onto your brother who was walking out of the living room. Dirk just snorts and pats his hair and lets John dangle from his neck like a living accessory.

“Hey John,” He says before his head lifts and he sends a nod in your direction. You sneer at him and you can't actually see it, but you know he's rolling his eyes. He walks off toward the kitchen with John still clinging to his neck before pausing midstep and looking down at John.

“You okay?” He asks, a frown turning his lips downwards. He reaches up and pushes John's bangs away from his forehead, pressing his palm to the flesh there, “You look pale.”

“'m fine. Let's go eat something.”

Dirk and John wander out of sight and you wrinkle your nose. Aradia snickers, swooping down the stairs and you scowl before following her down.

“Not boyfriends my ass.”

–

By the time Monday rolls around, you're actually thankful for school. Dirk took a weekend off from working on his 'bots and he and John took up residence in the living room, sprawled together on the couch to watch movies and play video games. John is pointedly ignoring Aradia, much to her chagrin, so _she_ spends most of her time stubbornly floating in front of his face, leaving you to entertain yourself. You're going stir crazy up in the attic by yourself and having an excuse to get out of the house is a blessing.

You wake up early and leave early to avoid walking to school with John, but you regret that decision the moment you walk out the door. Aradia notices when you stop at the end of the porch, and her head tilts in a silent question.

_What's wrong?_

And you'd answer, except you don't actually _know._ There's just something off, like the world's been tilted just enough to make you uncomfortable even though you can't put a finger on what's wrong. The morning's too quiet, too still, and you consider turning around and marching straight back inside to wait for John.

But with John having practically lived at your house all weekend, you think you need a break, so you ignore the niggling in your gut and hop off the porch to head to school.

“So,” Aradia says, “I was doing experiments last night.”

Your blood runs cold, “You where _what-”_

“Not on you, geeze,” She sighs, exasperated, “I was just testing out my haunting skills. Apparently when John touched the music box, I became attached to _him,_ too. Watch.”

She vanishes for a moment, and you hear a muffled screech from John's house before she's back and giggling.

You snort, “Necessary?”

“Very.”

The walk to the school isn't that long, but it feels like miles because there's something _wrong_ and you can't figure out what. You're glancing over your shoulder sporadically, tugging on the straps of your backpack anxiously, and trying to figure out why you're so fucking agitated. Aradia is frowning at you, and she keeps asking what's wrong because she doesn't believe you when you say that you honestly don't know.

You turn your head a little to check over your shoulder, and when you turn back around-  
  
“Holy _fuck!”_

The juggalo dude is right in front of you, dressed in the same baggy, food-stained clothes he'd been in when you saw him in the hallway. His shoulders bounce as he laughs when you stumble backwards, suddenly wishing you'd listened to Bro when he told you to bring a pocketknife with you to school. He grins, wide, slow and toothy and on anyone else it might've put you at ease, but it just makes this dude look more predatory.

Aradia is hovering behind you, and you can feel the chill on your shoulders where her hands are curled.

“Sorry, brother,” The guy drawls, voice raspy and low, enough that you swear you can feel the vibrations through the concrete, “Didn't mean to all up and scare a motherfucker.”

“Uh, yeah, that's fine I guess. No harm done,” You glance back at Aradia who shrugs helplessly back at you, “You- you need somethin'?”

His grin grows wider, “Nah, man. Nothin' like that. Just knew you were new to town, bro, wanted to give you a motherfuckin' welcome.”

You swallow thickly, shuffling back just a little because this guy definitely makes you thirty different kinds of uncomfortable. You've got no escape, though. You could try to get around him, but something tells you he'd be a hell of a lot faster.

And, of course, your mouth betrays you, like it always does, “Does that welcome include crawling into my window? 'Cause that's some creepy shit, man.”

He laughs—laughs—and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Man, I saw you all up and hangin' with that motherfuckin' Egbert kid. That brother's been skittish all his life. Just wanted to give 'm a little motherfuckin' jump scare.”

“Okay, yeah, still creepy. Look, I've got to get to school-”

“Who's that pretty motherfucker hidin' behind you, brother?”

You freeze, and a chill shudders down your spine. Your eyes flicker over to Aradia, who's staring at the guy with parted lips.

“You-” Your voice chokes off, “You can _see_ her?”

“Hell yeah I motherfuckin' can,” He takes a step forward, head tilting, “Who could ignore such a pretty little thing?”

A protective instinct you didn't know you had flares in your chest and you stand a little taller. You don't take time to think about the fact that Aradia's dead already and there's nothing this guy can do that's much worse than that. All you can think is that this guy's a threat and he's threatening _Aradia_ and there's no way you're gonna stand for that shit.

“Yeah, she's very pretty. But I've seriously got to get to school, so if you would kindly get the fuck out of my way.”

His smile darkens a little, eyes flashing and head tilting even further, “Didn't mean to hold you up, brother.”

He steps out of the way, and you watch him for a minute behind your shades before taking a cautious step forward. His hand shoots out in front of you, and you jump a little, drawing a laugh from his throat.

“Name's Gamzee, motherfucker.”

Reluctantly, you accept his outstretched hand. His skin is cold to the touch, almost electrified and you're not stupid enough to not relate that to the weird goop he left on your window sill.

“Dave.”

“Nice to motherfuckin' meet you.”

His hand tightens hard around yours, enough to make you grind your teeth, and then he releases you and waits for you to leave. You do so gladly.

You glance at Aradia, “You know him? He been in the attic?”

She shakes her head, looking shaken— _really_ shaken. How scary does a guy have to be to shake up a dead girl?

You look back and see Gamzee's still standing where you'd left him, watching you with his creepy glowing eyes.

Yeah, that guys gonna be a problem.

–

The school day drags and you're not paying attention in any of your classes, too focused on the creepy Gamzee dude. So he can see Aradia, but he's never been in your attic, he left purple goop all over your window sill, not to mention he's crazy as all fuck. With glowing eyes.

How are you supposed to pay attention to history when you've got way bigger problems happening _right now?_

You're barely out the front doors of the school when your phone is chiming in your pocket.

You dig it out and find Karkat messaging you.

Quite a bit.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 14:43 --   
CG: DAVE I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.   
CG: DAVE I NEED TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW, ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING TO ME?   
CG: NOW IS NOT THE FUCKING TIME FOR YOU TO IGNORE ME THIS IS SERIOUS SHIT.   
TG: whats up   
CG: WHAT'S UP?   
CG: THAT'S ALL YOU CAN FUCKING SAY?   
TG: am i supposed to be upset about something   
TG: dude you havent told me what youre freaking out about   
CG: IT'S TEREZI.   
CG: SHE'S IN THE HOSPITAL.

You actually didn't know it was possible for your stomach to plummet so fast. You nearly lose your balance and Aradia makes a startled noise when you almost trip over your feet.

TG: wait what the fuck  
TG: whats wrong is she alright  
CG: I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.  
CG: SHE HAD A HUGE FUCKING MELTDOWN DURING SCHOOL TODAY, AND THEY TOOK HER AWAY IN AN AMBULANCE.  
CG: SHE'S, UH...  
CG: SHE'S BLIND.  
TG: what  
CG: WELL I'M NOT SURE IF SHE'S REALLY BLIND BUT SHE'S GOT BANDAGES OVER HER EYES.  
CG: SHE WON'T TALK TO ME.  
CG: NOT UNLESS SHE'S TALKING TO YOU, TOO.  
TG: fuck okay but shes alive  
TG: shes not in any danger of dying  
TG: ease my mind here  
CG: NO SHE'S NOT GOING TO DIE.  
CG: BUT SHE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING.  
TG: okay what is it  
CG: HERE SHE  
CG: FUCK SHE CAN'T SEE SO I HAVE TO TYPE FOR HER.  
CG: SHE'S MAKING ME TYPE LIKE HER, TOO.  
TG: what the fuck ever karkat would you just get on with the message relaying here  
CG: D4V3 4R3 YOU 1N D4NG3R  
CG: FUCK HOW DOES SHE EVEN TYPE LIKE THAT?  
CG: IT TAKES FOR-FUCKING-EVER.  
TG: cry me a river karkat  
TG: and uh  
TG: i dont think im in danger  
TG: i mean theres that weird clown dude  
CG: CLOWN >:?  
TG: yeah theres this freaky juggalo guy creepin around  
TG: he was tryin to crawl into my window last week  
TG: and he can also see my ghost friend aradia  
TG: so thats weird  
CG: D4V3 DONT G3T TOO CLOS3 TO H1M  
TG: trust me im not getting close to him at all  
TG: in fact i intend to do my best to stay as far away from him as i can  
TG: why do you say that though  
TG: thats kinda ominous  
CG: 1 S4W SOM3TH1NG  
TG: with your freaky mind powers  
CG: Y3S W1TH MY FR34KY M1ND POW3RS  
CG: D4V3 H3S R34LLY D4NG3ROUS  
CG: 1 TH1NK H3 W4NTS TO K1LL YOU  
TG: whoa wait what  
TG: thats takin it a little far dont you think  
CG: H3S K1LL3D B3FOR3  
CG: 4ND 1 TH1NK YOUR3 H1S N3XT T4RG3T  
TG: you got all of that from one crazy vision  
TG: how detailed was this little episode of yours anyway  
CG: 1T W4S 1NT3NS3 3NOUGH TO BL1ND M3 4ND PUT M3 1N TH3 HOSP1T4L YOU PR1CK  
CG: >:[  
TG: shit sorry  
TG: fuck terezi  
TG: im really fucking sorry  
CG: 1TS NOT YOUR F4ULT SO DONT 3V3N TH1NK 4BOUT BL4M1NG YOURS3LF  
CG: JUST PROM1S3 TO B3 C4R3FUL OKAY  
TG: alright yeah i promise  
CG: OKAY TEREZI NEEDS TO GET HER REST.  
CG: SO WE SHOULD GO.  
TG: okay man  
TG: message me later though alright  
TG: keep me updated  
CG: OF COURSE I WILL WHAT KIND OF FUCKING FRIEND DO YOU THINK I AM.  
CG: YOU'RE THE ONE WHO IGNORED ME.  
TG: i know okay im sorry  
CG: WHATEVER  
TG: later man  
CG: LATER.  
CG: OH AND DAVE.  
CG: IF YOU GET YOURSELF HURT I WILL FLY UP TO WASHINGTON AND PERSONALLY SHOVE YOU OUT A FUCKING WINDOW.  
TG: love you too karkat  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:22 --

You drag a hand through your hair, your entire body numb. Terezi's blind. That fucking juggalo asshole Gamzee somehow managed to blind her all the way from Washington and it's your goddamn fucking fault.

“Shit,” You bite out, tugging on your hair hard enough to hurt, _“Shit.”_

“Dave, whoa.”

Suddenly there's a hand on your wrist and when you look up, you're met by John's dark eyes, his brow furrowed and his head tilted a little in concern.

“You alright?”

Misplaced anger floods your chest and you shove him away roughly, “No, I'm not fucking alright.”

He stares at you, wide eyed, and you watch as his shock morphs into indignity. You don't stick around to listen to him rip you a new one, just shoulder by him and head for home with Aradia trailing along behind you casting glances back at John.

You're going to feel guilty about all this later, and you're going to have to get on your hands and knees to apologize to John, but right now? After hearing that your best friend's in the hospital and _blind_ because of _you?_

Right now, you don't really give a shit.


End file.
